Friday, April 24, 2009

“Come back to me, come back to me”, you imagine a voice calling while you watch the setting sun.

As the light fades, night comes courting. His siren song is enthralling coaxing you from the comfort and safety of your kitchen, to the soft glow of the dooryard, and onward into the still of the night.

Dreams pour out of your eyes, your ears, your mouth and float just out of reach on the dark night air. You grasp at their wisps, chasing after them as they flee into the morning. Shimmering like diamonds in the dew, they evaporate in the light.

So you shade your eyes against the brightness of the day. Brush your teeth and wash your face, and dress to go to work and as you’re getting ready to get into the car and drive to the office you think you hear a voice call.

"Come back to me and remember. I’ll wait for you. Do not forget from where you came. Eden is under your feet.”

To This:

The light fades, night comes courting, coaxing you from the comfort and safety of your house to the soft glow of the dooryard, and onward into the night.

Gunmetal clouds paint the hills with moon shadows. The night sky and mill pond dress in flannel greys forever reflecting their kinship. Swaying boughs beckon. Fireflies dance over the grass to a bullfrog's basso profondo and a chorus of peep frogs.

Dreams flow from your eyes, your ears, your mouth and float away on the dark night air. Grasping at their wisps you chase after them as they flee toward morning; like diamonds in the dew they evaporate with the dawn.

So you wake and shade your eyes against the brightness of day. Brush your teeth, wash your face, and dress to go to work. As you open the front door you hear voices in the wind:" "Come back, come back and remember me. Do not forget from where you came. Eden is under your feet."